Glorfindel, the great warrior
by Naurring
Summary: After his rebirth Glorfindel arrives in Imladris.


**Disclaimer:** Everything belongs to Tolkien, as it did yesterday, tomorrow and in all eternity

**Author's Note:** Thanks to Minuial Nuwing for betareading. If there are any mistakes left, they are mine. There's also a German translation available, "Glorfindel, der große Krieger".

1,507 words

**Glorfindel, the great warrior**

It had been some time since Imladris had last seen such commotion and excitement. Most of the elves of Imladris were gathered in the courtyard, or sitting on every possible surface in their eagerness to watch the events. Some had even climbed up on the roofs of the houses and were already straining their necks to look for any sign of Imladris' newest inhabitant, who was to arrive shortly. But up to now there was no trace of him.

Elladan shifted restlessly from one foot to the other and his brother followed his example, impatiently tugging at his father's hand whilst constantly moving about.

Elrond sighed deeply. "Could you two stop that just for a moment please? I don't think Glorfindel would be very delighted to come to our home and be greeted by two little fleas like you."

The two elflings instantly stood. Neither of them wanted to disappoint the great Balrog-slayer. "And he is really coming here, Ada?" Elladan asked, already bouncing again.

"Yes, Elladan, he is really coming. Just a few more minutes and he will be arriving."

"But he died!" Elrohir exclaimed. He was very proud of his history knowledge and was a bit offended that some of this knowledge should be proven as wrong. "He died when he slew that nasty balrog to defend all those poor people who had to run from their city! Didn't he, Ada? Didn't he?" Forcefully he pulled at his father's sleeve.

Elrond allowed himself an exasperated sigh. Ever since the message had reached them that Glorfindel had been reborn and intended to come to Imladris to live there, the two boys had been full of excitement and weren't giving him any rest. They wanted to hear every single tale that had ever been written about Glorfindel, wanted to constantly look at the beautiful paintings of the great Balrog-slayer that adorned some of the halls. Elrond couldn't count anymore how often he had told them the story of the fall of Gondolin. Probably more often than his years numbered.

"Yes, you are right, Elrohir. Glorfindel died in Gondolin." Erestor smiled down at the little elfling. "But he was reborn. The Valar allowed him to return to life for all the good things he has done in the past."

Elrohir still looked rather uncertain. His Ada had told him that the people who died went to the Halls of Mandos and would never return to Middle-earth. And what his Ada told him was always right. So Glorfindel couldn't have been reborn. Or could he and his Ada had been wrong? Well, he would find out in a few minutes.

Elrond closed his eyes in desperation when his sons grew silent again, moving restlessly against him. On the one side it was a real relief that the twins were silent. His poor ears had really been abused enough by their persistent questions. But of course it would be perfect if they simply stood there, without driving him mad with their little jumps and pulls on his arms. He considered simply letting go of the childrens' hands, but they would be off and away in no time, running out of the courtyard to greet Glorfindel on the street.

It was at times like this that Erestor was glad he had never married and sired children. He really did not envy Elrond. His gaze travelled from the Peredhil family back to the courtyard where the famous warrior would appear. He had to admit that deep inside he shared the twin's excitement. Often had he spent long hours wandering through the halls, studying all those beautiful paintings that told stories of the past. The painter of Gondolin had outdone himself. Glorfindel really was a magnificent sight. Long golden hair framed a beautiful face, swirling behind him as the tall warrior fought.

Glorfindel's death scene was one of the most beautiful things Erestor had ever seen. The painting showed tired and dirty elves fleeing panicked out of reach of the mighty fire demon that followed to end their lives. But Glorfindel, brave and strong as he was, stepped into the balrog's way, raising his magnificent sword. Dangerous and beautiful he looked as he stood there, frozen in time, his face contorted with rage and the knowledge that the last moments of his life had just begun.

Erestor was pulled out of his admiring daydreamings when a loud scream from the roof pierced the excited murmur of the gathered elves. "He's coming! I see him! He's coming!" Immediately all eyes turned to the gate of the courtyard. An eerie silence spread as no elf dared say a word, for fear of missing something.

"See, my sons? I told you he would come eventually." Tenderly Celebrían stroked over Elladan's raven hair. Elladan nodded absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on the one place where his idol would appear in a few moments.

It wasn't long until the clear sounds of horse-hooves reached the waiting elves. They grew louder and louder, effectively announcing the legend's arrival. From the roof, whispers were heard from the elves who could already see the party, but the others didn't have long to wait. Just a short moment later the first rider appeared behind the gate and rode into the courtyard.

Elrohir latched tightly onto his father's arm, shaking with excitement and awed fear. Glorfindel had arrived. Glorfindel, the great warrior who had killed a real balrog, all alone, had arrived at their home.

A gentle gasp escaped Erestor when he caught sight of the golden haired elf. Sitting on a snowwhite mare, Glorfindel looked as beautiful as on the paintings. The reborn warrior smiled cheerfully at the gathered elves before dismounting. He gave his horse into the care of a groom and advanced on the waiting Lord of Imladris.

No sound could be heard; all of Imladris stared disbelieving at the mighty warrior. Erestor's eyes widened in shock. This was Glorfindel? The strong elf who had killed a balrog? The tall beautiful elf of the paintings? He couldn't believe it.

This elf looked as if he still needed some more years to grow!

Glorfindel wasn't disturbed in the least by all those eyes on him. With fast steps he went up the stairs to the house until he stood in front of Elrond. There he bowed respectfully. "Greetings, my Lord. As you surely know, I am Glorfindel of Gondolin. It was very kind of you to accept me in your household."

Elrond just nodded absentmindedly, staring wide eyed at the elf before him.

Glorfindel grinned, hands clasped behind his back, rocking back and forth on his feet.

It was Erestor who broke the silence after some minutes. "Excuse me, my Lord Glorfindel…"

"Yes?" Glorfindel gifted Erestor with a bright smile.

"How…" Erestor had to swallow before he could ask the question. "How tall are you, exactly, you said?"

"Well, I'm nearly 4'9 tall. Does that answer your question?"

"Oh yes…" Elrond repeated, still in some kind of shock, staring at the small elf in front of him, the hero who didn't even reach his shoulder. "Four foot...nine inches..."

Glorfindel nodded eagerly, his golden hair bouncing on his back. "Exactly."

"Did you have a pleasant journey?" Erestor forced himself to ask. There were already enough people just standing there, staring at the tiny warrior who apparently had indeed managed to kill a balrog.

This fact made Erestor wonder how tall the balrog had really been.

"Yes, a most pleasant journey. But to tell the truth…" Glorfindel offered another blinding smile for Erestor, "I have travelled long and feel tired and dirty. It would be very kind if someone could show me to my rooms."

"But… of course." Erestor quickly gestured to one of the servants waiting behind the half-elven family. "Please show Lord Glorfindel to his chambers and ready a bath for him." To Glorfindel he said: "There will be a feast in your honour this evening. Until then you have all the time you need to refresh yourself. I will send a servant when it is time for the festivities to begin."

The golden haired elf nodded thankfully. "I will be ready. Thank you for your kind greeting." Casting a last smile on all of them, Glorfindel bounded up the stairs and followed the servant into the house. As soon as he had vanished inside, everyone turned to look after him.

"That is Glorfindel?" Elladan asked after a while, sounding more than just a bit disappointed. He had looked forward to the arrival of his idol, to be able to learn from the famous elf who surpassed all others in everything.

Elrohir didn't say anything at all – he was pouting. This was not what he had expected. He even forgot his outrage at the fact that Glorfindel had indeed been reborn and his father had been wrong. In all the stories Glorfindel was a tall mighty warrior. How dare this elf be so small!

Elrond stroked his sons' heads comfortingly. "Don't be sad, little ones. I'll give you a big horse."

End


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